


Dilly-dally

by EnzymaticWitch



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Drunken Confessions, Fluff, M/M, elias falls hard, its really just weirdly sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:13:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28437426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnzymaticWitch/pseuds/EnzymaticWitch
Summary: A chance encounter after an Institute holiday party leads to Elias making some questionable decisions.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Elias Bouchard
Comments: 10
Kudos: 37
Collections: End of Year Exchange 2020





	Dilly-dally

**Author's Note:**

  * For [j_quadrifrons](https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_quadrifrons/gifts).



The Institute Holiday Party tends to be rather dull. Elias says a few words, reminds everyone not to wander out of the lobby for fear of an Incident and disappears back into his office to watch the festivities from afar. He opens one of the little chocolate liqueurs Rosie gifted him and drinks it despite the awful taste.

He only leaves when the party has been dispersed for a quarter-hour and the chance of accidental arson is relatively low. The Institute’s fire suppression system is one of the places he’s spent an obscene amount of money, but Elias would rather not have it triggered. He already had to have it refilled after the Prentiss situation.

His Archivist is sitting on the stoops with one of the assistants, rubbing his hands together and quietly seething. The young man with him smells of peppermint and booze, overriding his natural scent. Elias finds it unusually pleasant.

The Archivist startles. “Elias! I thought you’d left already.” The man beside him does not acknowledge Elias, seeming content to doze while sitting on the steps to the Institute, no doubt freezing.

Elias gives a half shrug. “My work is never done. Something wrong with our Mr. Blackwood?”

“Martin missed his train,” the Archivist explains. “We’re waiting for a taxi, but at this rate, I’m going to miss my train too.”

The Archivist seems less put-out by this than he otherwise would be, perhaps content with forcing himself into Martin’s dreary flat, or bringing Martin back to his. A desire to ruin this plan wells up inside Elias.

“We can’t have that. I’ll see him home,” Elias says.

The Archivist begins protesting at once. “You shouldn’t trouble yourself—“

“I insist,” he replies, a shark’s smile gracing his face.

The Archivist tries to hide his discontent. He fails. “If you’re sure...”

Elias makes a shooing gesture. “Of course. What kind of employer would I be if I let harm befall my employees?”

He pointedly thinks of the Not Them and tries not to laugh at his own joke.

Whatever argument the Archivist was drumming up dies on his lips. He looks to Martin, as if in apology. “Right. Well. See you Monday, Martin. Elias,” he says.

Martin beams at him. “Goodnight!”

“See you, Archivist,” Elias calls, not missing the way the Archivist’s shoulders stiffen up at that.

They wait in companionable silence before Martin hiccups.

“I’m— I’m sorry for making you wait with me. I’m sure you have someone waiting for you,” Martin says, flush high on his cheeks.

Elias glances at him. “What makes you say that?”

Martin looks up at him, eyes wide. “You’re so pretty!” he exclaims.

Elias laughs the first natural laugh he’s had in ages. “Is that so?” he replies.

Martin nods emphatically, nearly tilting over if not for Elias’s iron grip. “Absolutely! You’re the prettiest man I’ve ever seen—“

Elias smiles despite himself. He’s been told he’s attractive before, of course, but those who pursue him typically find themselves on the wrong end of the eye shortly after. He’s not one for hookups or the like, preferring to dedicate himself to his patron. Staring into Martin Blackwood’s glazed eyes, he finds he isn’t interested in observing him. At least not that way.

“—and like, your eyes! They’re magnificent. I could get lost in them for ages— I have been lost in them.” Martin stops to take a breath, having run out a dozen words ago.

Elias feels himself smile. “You dream about my eyes, Martin?”

“Every night,” Martin replies. “They’re so— you know!”

Elias feels a bit more daring, Martin’s liquid courage perhaps rubbing off on him. “And what would you do if I were a monster?”

“If you’re a monster, I still think you’re beautiful,” Martin says with an earnest smile, gazing at the light-polluted London sky. “Wonder what that makes me?”

* * *

Martin wakes up with the worst hangover he’s ever had and the unshakable feeling of being watched. The smell of fried eggs wafts through the room, making his mouth water and turning his stomach. He would, at this moment, both die to eat and die if he does eat. He wants eggs.

Martin blinks at the ceiling. This is not his ceiling. He shuffles around a bit, realizing with dawning horror that this is not his bed and he is completely naked. What the hell had he done last night? It was the Institute party and sure he had a little to drink, but surely he didn’t go home with anyone. The last thing he remembers is Tim shoving a fizzy drink at him and Jon glaring at him and those eyes—

Elias.

_Oh god._

As if summoned, Elias enters the room carrying a tray with an array of food and an assortment of glasses. Eggs, Martin thinks. Eggs.

“I see you’re awake,” Elias winks at him. Winks at Martin. “Have a good sleep? It’s nearly half-passed noon.”

Martin takes the glass and medicine with shakey hands. He went home with his boss. He is in his boss’s home, sitting naked in his boss’s bed, drinking out of his boss’s glass. Jon’s going to kill him or worse, fire him.

With the medication down, he turns his attention to the tray Elias brought. Martin takes in the sight. “Are those— did you make American pancakes?” he asks, scandalized.

Elias laughs. It’s a nice sound. “No, I ordered in. I appreciate that you think I’m capable of cooking at all.” He cuts a pit of pancake with a fork and offers it to Martin, pressing it into his mouth when he opens his mouth. Martin blushes, but the food is delightful.

He swallows before speaking. “Oh god, same. I’ve lived on my own long enough that you’d think I picked some skills up but no. I can barely boil an egg.”

Elias laughs again, using the fork he fed Martin with to take a bite of the pancake. “I suppose we’re something of two peas in a pod, then.”

“Two grown adults incapable of cooking. I suppose that’s one thing to bond over,” Martin laughs. His blush deepens when he realizes Elias is staring at him.

“You don’t remember anything from last night, do you?” Elias asks. He passes Martin his own fork and they take turns sampling the spread, from eggs to toast to beans to streaky bacon. It seems that Elias ordered everything one could have for breakfast.

“Well. Not really, no,” Martin says around a forkful of eggs.

Elias’s grin is only a little sheepish. “You were quite drunk at the holiday party and missed your train home. I offered to wait with you for a cab. It rather suddenly began raining, soaking us both. I offered to let you spend the night at mine, which you enthusiastically accepted. You undressed yourself and your clothes are currently drying. Your virtue is intact.”

Martin snorts at that, causing himself to choke on his bacon. Elias watches him cough and clear his throat with amusement in his eyes.

“I’m sorry for causing you trouble. Thank you for looking after me,” Martin says with a hoarse voice.

“Nonsense, it was no trouble. It’s not very often I have an attractive man in my bed.”

Martin looks up with round eyes. “You think I’m attractive?” he asks before his brain can stop him. Elias laughs again.

“I do,” he says. He leans in and whispers, as if sharing a secret, “And I have it on good authority that you think I’m quite pretty.”

Martin’s face feels like it’s on fire. Of course, his stupid drunk mouth would say that. He always got too flirty.

He’s so busy having an internal crisis that Martin doesn’t realize when Elias has placed the tray to the side. Elias is suddenly in his space, the movement threatening to pull the sheets off Martin. Their faces are so close, too close—

Martin closes the gap before Elias can. Elias’s lips are soft against his, tasting faintly of raspberry syrup. It’s Elias who deepens the kiss, hand curling around the back of Martin’s neck, moving to straddle Martin’s hips.

They break apart to Martin’s gasp. It is suddenly so much hotter. Elias is panting as well, fingers playing with the hair curling at Martin’s neck. Martin feels more than sees his grin.

“Why don’t you show me what you thought happened?” Elias asks.

* * *

Martin calls in sick that following Monday. Elias works from home. Nobody puts two and two together.

* * *

_Supplemental: Martin’s been acting odd since the holiday party, even Sasha pointed it out. He says he’s alright but he’s fidgety. I knew I shouldn’t have left them alone._

_Elias seems perfectly normal — well, as normal as Elias gets. I hate to say it, but I worry something happened. I need to corner Martin and get the truth out of him. End supplemental._

* * *

Martin avoids him at work.

Not that it is difficult. Elias rarely needs to be in the Archives and Martin rarely needs to leave the Archives. Still, he ducks into rooms if he spots Elias, makes excuses to leave. It’s really rather cute, though it’s lead to the Archivist noticing that something is off. His suspicions are partially egged on by the Eye but mostly due to his own curiosity.

They meet at night, Martin leaving the Archives and spending time in Elias’s office until they leave later in the evening. They so far haven’t been spotted together, most of the institute gone after 5 anyway. The night is spent at Elias’s home (once at Martin’s flat, never again).

Neither of them has been getting quite enough sleep lately.

This may be why Elias makes an excuse to go to the Archives one afternoon when Jon isn’t in but is due to be back. He corners Martin in a storage room for statements between 1987 - 1994. Martin squeaks when Elias grabs his arse, sliding his thigh between Martin’s.

“I’ve noticed you avoiding me at work,” Elias notes, tonguing a sensitive spot behind Martin’s ear. Martin makes a valiant effort to not react, but Elias can feel him shudder.

Martin huffs, consciously trying not to grind on Elias’s thigh. “Aren’t you— I don’t know, worried? That someone could go to HR or— or something?”

Elias pauses and looks at him quizzically. “Is that what this is about? Assuming an outside party did have a problem, HR reports to me, Martin. The Head of the Institute is always chosen by the previous Head. I can’t be replaced or ousted even if it becomes known that I’m fucking a subordinate.”

“I don’t want people to— to—“ Martin chokes back a moan, and the discussion devolves from there.

If anyone sees Elias exit the Archives a little more flustered than he entered, they don’t mention it.

* * *

“I don’t know if we should do this at work,” Martin says over dinner in his office that night. “I don’t want people to think you’re some sort of creep—“

“That’s thoughtful of you,” Elias replies with a bland look. “If you don’t want to be in a relationship with me you may simply say so. It can end here and now—“

“No!” Martin shouts, then covers his mouth in horror and looks at the door. If anyone was outside his office, they make no move to enter.

Just like that, the nervous energy floods out of Martin. He stuffs a piece of nigiri in his mouth. “I’m sorry, it’s not that I don’t want you. I do. You’re the best thing to ever happen to me. It’s just— I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Elias perks up. “I’m the best thing to ever happen to you?”

“Elias," Martin groans.

Elias shuffles through the paper on his desk, pulling out a plain folder and sliding it to Martin. "You know, I was going to save this for later, but I suppose the discussion is due."

Martin opens the envelope and begins reading the letter inside. "You want me to be your assistant?" he asks.

"Executive assistant," Elias corrects primly. "Rosie's overworked as it is and I need someone who can take on certain tasks when I am otherwise indisposed."

"Do you think it's a good idea to make your boyfriend an 'Executive Assistant'?" Martin asks, his eyes staying glued to the page and no doubt focusing on the salary increase. 

Elias shrugs, "I've had worse ideas."

* * *

Elias finds himself wanting to tell Martin everything. Or, rather, he wants Martin to figure it out. Figure him out. To see Elias for what and who he is and call him beautiful.

It is a foolish dream.

* * *

Jon’s reasoning for destroying the table is sound, but he is ultimately wrong. The thing that killed Sasha James lets him know as much.

Elias is safely back in his office, clothes pristine as if he hadn’t just beat a man to death. He has only minutes to settle in before Martin bursts into his office, blood on his hands and tears in his eyes. It takes every bit of Elias’s self-control to not smile when Martin stutters out that there’s been a murder in Jon’s office.

* * *

Martin stares at Elias from across the desk, leaning on his arm with an unimpressed look. “Is your job really just schmoozing and expense reports?”

Elias snorts. “I sometimes also do scheduling.”

“Ooooh, scheduling!” Martin exclaims.

Martin spends more time with him now that Jon and Sasha are officially missing. Tim is on vacation, choosing to spend his time trying to flee, so the Archives are unstaffed. Martin feels the need to read the odd statement every now and again, but he mostly leaves the place alone since his transfer. Elias isn’t complaining.

Elias observes Martin over his monitor before he sighs and slides his expense book over. “Make sure the numbers add up and the expense reason is valid.”

Martin takes the book without much complaining. “Putting me to work, are you?”

“As much as I would rather use you for other tasks,” Elias pointed looks Martin up and down, earning a blush. “I do need to get this finished.”

* * *

Tim comes back, Melanie gets hired on, and Martin continues spending time in his office doing various tasks. They’re at the point where Elias is consistently ahead of schedule. Propriety seems to matter less and less to Martin, and he rarely goes to the Archives these days except to read the odd statement or two.

Elias stops double-checking Martin’s filings after a while. Aside from a few mistakes here and there, Martin is surprisingly competent when it comes to handling paperwork. They spend portions of the day and every night together. Martin uses his shampoo and conditioner now.

It’s nice. Domestic. Something Elias Bouchard hasn’t had in, well, ever.

* * *

Martin chooses to accompany him home after the confrontation with Jon and the (former) constables. The drive is silent, full of pent-up energy. Elias half-expects Martin to stab him with the corkscrew in his pocket. To be fair, he deserves worse.

They make it home without bloodshed. Martin shuts down any attempt Elias makes to communicate, preferring to silently stew in his thoughts. If looks could kill, Elias would be dead ten times over.

Martin pulls some food containers from the refrigerator, dutifully setting the table while the stir fry reheats on the stove. Elias sits in his chair, watching, amused. How many times had they done just this? The Eye knows, he’s sure.

It’s only when the food is plated and Martin has sat that he erupts.

“You lied to me, Elias,” he says, stabbing a piece of broccoli violently with his fork.

Elias stares at him, awed. “That’s what you’re upset about? The lying?”

Martin shouts, “Of course that’s what I’m upset about! You knew where Jon was and what happened to Sasha.”

“I am fine with you being a weird eye person. I’m fine with the murder, even, probably more than I should be. But I’m not fine with the lying,” Martin says. “If you want this to work you can’t keep lying to me.”

Elias blinks, his brain grinding to a halt. Martin still wants him, even after all this. The honest, hurt look on Martin’s face proves it.

Elias is smitten. “What did I do to deserve you?” he wonders.

“Are you listening to me—“

Elias rounds the table, taking Martin’s hand gently and pulling him into a hug. “Of course. No more lies.” He could do that, probably. Aside from the big lie. It wouldn’t do to lose him for something like that. Maybe Martin never needs to know.

He longs to hear the name Jonah on Martin’s lips.

“I love you,” Elias exclaims, pressing a kiss to the side of Martin’s mouth. “You beautiful man.”

Martin gasps. “I— I think I love you too,” he replies, sincere, the anger seeping out of him, slow and sweet like the oozing of a healing wound. “I do love you. _Fuck_.”

* * *

Elias becomes a lovesick fool.

The lie is simple. A few well-placed statements, some implied truths, and the assumptions of one Timothy Stoker are all it takes. The Archivist mistakes when the Unknowing occurs so that it comes and goes without so much as a whimper. The Eye isn’t particularly thrilled about missing it but, well, there will be statements from a survivor.

The Archivist arrives in the aftermath, morose puppets torn apart by aspects of the Hunt. Tim and Detective Tonner get to hack apart dummies for some long overdue anger management, and Basira begins putting together the piece Gertrude had long ago. Elias may send them after Maxwell’s pet project sometime soon when he’s sure she won’t rip Jon apart.

Martin sits with him in his office, going over the scheduling while Elias relaxes. He should have done this 'Executive Assistant' thing years ago.

Martin looks up at Elias with a scowl. “I cannot believe Adelaide approved so many people to be off at the same time. The library is going to be understaffed for weeks,” he complains. “Like I get that everyone wants to go on holiday but you can’t just have nobody there!”

Elias smiles, taking a sip of his latte.

“You’re not listening to me, are you?” Martin gripes.

“I cherish every word that leaves your lips,” Elias replies easily. Martin scoffs, though it does nothing to hide his blush.

“You’re impossible,” he mutters, turning his attention back to his laptop.

It may take a few more years for Elias to achieve his goals, but he will achieve them. Martin will be by his side and by then the Archive will accept ruling over his own domain.

Just a few more years.


End file.
